


On Kayleigh and Kevin

by wellthengetouttathesoupaisle



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Gen, a little about kayleigh and kevin because wheres the content??, also its very established that she's an Independent Woman, anyway i love them, kayleigh is stressed and contemplating life, kevin is a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 05:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11201199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthengetouttathesoupaisle/pseuds/wellthengetouttathesoupaisle
Summary: Maybe they were in love. It could have been a thing, Kayleigh muses, if not for the stress and the pressure that comes with being an independent woman who invented a sport. Maybe if she wasn't such an independent woman, it could have worked. Almost.(She thinks about that 'almost' a lot. It keeps her up at night and knocks on her window with the branches of her dying magnolia tree.)





	On Kayleigh and Kevin

Kayleigh Day is a successful woman. 

She's independent, clever, strong—both physically and mentally, but being the inventor of a new sport helps with that.

Kevin was an accident. 

She didn't mean to have him, but once she did, it wasn't as though she lamented it. He's a pretty baby, all green eyes and midnight hair and dimpled cheeks just like hers, with dark olive skin that's definitely not hers, or any of her pale-faced Irish ancestors. It makes it that much harder when she tells the father Kevin's not his. He doesn't believe her—almost—he likes to think they were in love and that Kayleigh wouldn't leave him so quickly.

(She might've left anyway, even without the surprise child. She doesn't know, really, but Kevin's here now and she thinks she should settle down some.)

Maybe they were in love. It could have been a thing, Kayleigh muses, if not for the stress and the pressure that comes with being an independent woman who invented a sport. Maybe if she wasn't such an independent woman, it could have worked. Almost.

(She thinks about that 'almost' a lot. It keeps her up at night and knocks on her window with the branches of her dying magnolia tree.)

(The petals are shedding and the rotting smell is getting out of hand. She makes a mental note to get it pulled out.)

But then, she never really could relinquish her independence. Other women, perhaps, managed to maintain it even in marriage, but there's too many other variables in her life to take it under consideration. And the times, the times. The times aren't on her side.

(And sometimes, she thinks, neither is Tetsuji.)

"Mom," Kevin says, two years old and clutching crayons and a miniature Exy stick in his small hands. "Mom."

She glances his way tiredly. It's summertime and it's hot, and she just found out this morning that her whole bin of salted caramels melted in the pantry. She could've maybe dipped fruit with it, but there's no time with the endless work and company deals and endorsements flowing her way.

"Mom," he says again, because it's one of the few words he can say. It's cute. It would be cuter if her desk was clear of the stacks of paperwork and perspiration wasn't sticking loose strands of hair to her forehead. 

(And maybe if she had some salted caramel squares. The grocery store should be having a sale soon.) 

"Yes," she replies. He looks at her and blinks. Then he tilts his head down to stare wide-eyed at his crayons. "Yes," she prods.

"Ahh dis," he manages, and touches them briefly to his lips. Kayleigh makes an effort to raise the corners of her lips back at him. He stares uncertainly, on the cusp of a smile, a slightly dumbstruck expression coloring his tiny features. 

Kayleigh shakes her head and returns to her work, shuffling a few papers in front of her. She fumbles for her pen, loses her grip, and drops it. Kevin notices and toddles over as fast as he can to snatch it. She leans down and swipes it up right before his chubby fingers can curl around it, and he falls backwards onto his butt and bursts out laughing. 

It's a baby's sense of humor, to laugh at such things. (A drunk's, too, but Kevin will never discover that.)

He looks at her expectantly, like he thinks she'll drop the pen again, but when she doesn't he forgets about it and returns to scribbling on her walls with his crayons. She'll clean it later, she tells herself. 

It's hard raising a baby. It's hard as an independent woman who invented a sport to raise a baby. It's even harder when she has places to be and things to do and now she's stressed because of the dirty looks passengers send a wailing Kevin when they fly overseas. 

("Leave him with me," Tetsuji offers once.

Kayleigh refuses. Gently. She's seen Riko.)

It's hard raising a baby. It's even harder raising a famous baby. He's a celebrity already, parading around in tiny tracksuits and a custom made Raven's uniform with an Exy racquet he'd much rather trade for his stuffed caterpillar. He's on the front covers of magazines, his green eyes crinkled in a frozen, dimpled laugh where the tiny scar on the side of his jaw from when he fell on a fork tine is brushed away by photo editing. 

It's hard, because the press asks questions and she doesn't know—doesn't _like_ —their answers.

Will you raise him on Exy? Why yes, she invented the sport—

Will he play for the Ravens? Of course, once her and Tetsuji adjust a few things and correct some of the more outlandish policies—

Who's the father? There's something called _privacy_ , and Kayleigh as an independent woman is more than entitled—

"Dis!" Kevin says proudly, flinging his short arms up to display his masterpiece. "Mom." He ends it on a duller note and she looks up to see him examining a now broken crayon.

"Kevin," she admonishes. He attempts to shove it in his mouth and she's on her feet in an instant, pulling it away from him with a sharp reprisal. "Do _not_ eat the crayon."

"Dis," Kevin says vaguely, and smacks his hand against his artwork. 

Kayleigh sighs and goes to get the cleaner. Her paperwork will have to wait. 

(She can handle it. She's an independent woman.)

(But it doesn't hurt to have a little regret.)

**Author's Note:**

> Let it be established that I have nothing against independent woman and this was more me rambling for the sake of Semi-Decent Writing than any deep intentioned double meanings.
> 
> Anyway come talk to me on tumblr [@kevindxy](https://kevindxy.tumblr.com/), I'm always open to tfc and writing topics!


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